


Pagan God of Blood and Gold and Sex (Or, A Little Tale of Iker Casillas)

by dollylux



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Cock Worship, Dirty Talk, FIFA World Cup 2010, Flag kink, Large Cock, M/M, Patriotism, Riding, Sleepy Sex, Spain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>World Cup. Debauchery. Flag kink/porn. Sex-starved Sergio. Iker's gotta big dick. (How's that for a summary?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pagan God of Blood and Gold and Sex (Or, A Little Tale of Iker Casillas)

The World Cup had felt like it had gone on for years, for literal years. The final had been weeks long and the after party had been... well. It had been infinite. It had been a blur and it had been tearful and filled to the brim with celebration and alcohol and hedonism and secrets that will never leave the squad. The parties that had gone on back in Spain might as well have occurred during the height of the Roman Empire with all of the flesh seen and shown and shared. Sergio had gone upstairs though with whom he still doesn’t know, he doesn’t even remember when he wakes up in the morning with his underwear on but pulled down beneath his ass and his jersey halfway off. He eases off the bed with a hiss and pulls his clothes back on, not wanting to shower quite yet because his skin still smells like South Africa and it’s a scent he’s not eager to forget.

He does wipe his face off though and he smooths his hair back and he gives his reflection a long, critical look, making a mental checklist of things he needs to do as soon as he gets out of party mode. It takes him ten minutes to leave the upstairs part of the house and he realizes after an embarrassing amount of time that it’s because this is Xabi’s house and not his own. He finds the stairs after his discovery and he walks down them, stray cups and clothes and fuck knows what else getting shuffled around with every step he takes. Fernando is asleep in the kitchen, on top of the table, covered up with Nagore’s absurdly expensive antique handmade linen needlepoint tablecloth and he snorts at how fucking ridiculous and adorable he looks lying there, using an empty bottle of champagne as a pillow. He sighs to himself, wiping hard at his eyes to get the last of the sleep out of them as he stumbles toward the livingroom in search of a proper blanket and pillow for the kid when he comes to a sudden and dumbfounded stop.

“Well. Fuck.”

Iker is asleep on the floor. Or Sergio wishes it was so simple. Iker is actually asleep on a large Spanish flag, one that is spread out imperfectly though the man languishing on it isn’t, he’s spread out in absolute, dick-throbbing perfection, as naked as Adonis and pale as fresh milk and as spread out as every single painting of Saint Sebastian Sergio has ever seen. He looks thoroughly fucked out and debauched, finger-shaped bruises on his ribs and scratch marks on his arms and violet bruises in the exact shape of hungry mouths all over his throat. His legs are curled and spread lazily, his thighs thick and solid and a perfect trail up to the cock that is nestled between his legs, that is fat and a deep pink at the tip, that is painfully hard and moist and ready for anything that wants to take it. Sergio takes a deep breath that he lets out noisily, one of his hands clasped on the wood of the doorframe and he’s absolutely goddamn helpless here. He reaches down to grip his own dick, giving it a rough, annoyed squeeze before he walks into the room, keeping his eyes on Iker like he’s a sleeping tiger, like he’s going to leap up suddenly and pounce Sergio and fuck him into next week. Sergio can only whimper at the thought, his cock leaking a hungry, syrupy drop of salt for it.

He kneels beside him so he can study him a little longer, so he keep this burned in his mind for all of eternity. He reaches into his pants and absently strokes himself, his eyes tracing from Iker’s wrists that are crossed lazily over his head, his chest broad from the spread and the angle of his arms, his nipples hard because of the sharp chill Xabi’s air conditioning blasts into the room. Iker’s stomach is as soft as it is lean and the dip of his hips next to the curve of his stomach is pure sensuality, is absolutely inspired and the most homoerotic thing Sergio has ever seen. He strokes just the head of his cock as he leans forward, letting the barest tips of his fingers trail over Iker’s ribs, just wanting to feel the jut of them under silken skin, wanting to feel Iker arch under the mysterious touch, wanting to watch his cock jump for the promise of attention. Iker licks his lips as he moves the smallest bit and fuck, Sergio’s attention is torn away from his body up to his face, up to Iker’s top lip that shouldn’t be so beautfiul, not on a man of his stature and his importance and his fierce masculinity but it is, sweet God in heaven it is and Sergio is maybe still a little drunk or maybe he’s under a spell because he cranes up, his hand planted on the hardwood floor as he presses his mouth to Iker’s, spreading those lips apart with his own and licking into his mouth and he doesn’t hesitate for a second, not even when Iker wakes up with a confused, hungry little moan and kisses him back with a surprising amount of voracity for it to be so early in the morning.

Iker tries to lift a hand to touch Sergio but Sergio holds both of his wrists down together, letting Iker taste inside of his mouth as freely as he wants. He smiles when Iker makes a hurt, hungry sound and sleepily fights against Sergio’s grasp and so he pulls back, wanting to see the moment when Iker’s eyes open and when he writhes around on that flag and god this is absolute pornography, this is... fuck. Yeah, there it is.

“Sergio, what the fuck? Let me up.”

Sergio keeps his hold on him, his arm bulging with the strength it’s taking to keep him there and his other hand keeps up on his own cock, the slick sound of it drawing Iker’s eyes down and he’s confused until he surveys himself, until he sees just how he looks, the condition that Sergio has found him in and then he’s almost shy, trying to cross his legs and twist out of his grasp, out of his sight.

“I must’ve been so drunk last night. I don’t even remember--”

“You’re spread out on the flag.” Sergio’s voice is heavy, deep with lust and he moves closer to Iker, his eyes flitting ravenously all over, taking in the bright red and gold behind Iker and how this is his captain, this is his savior, this is the man who brought them the cup they’re drunk celebrating and this is the man he lives and dies defending every year of his life. Spread out like a feast on their flag. He leans back over him, dragging his nose up Iker’s cheek and his voice comes out in a pleading growl. “Fuck, Iker, look at you.”

“Baby.” Iker closes his fingers around Sergio’s, not fighting to be let up anymore but he’s blushing now, deep and all over his body, his stomach drawing in a little, the muscles of his chest and arms broadening as he tries to show off for Sergio, his cock stiffening under such attentive eyes. Sergio glances around their immediate surroundings and he sees another flag just above Iker’s head, more red and gold in their eyes and he takes his hand out of his shorts as he starts to expertly bind Iker’s wrists together with it, wrapping them up secure but not too tight and he ties a strong knot, running his hands down the insides of Iker’s arms which makes Iker jump with how ticklish it is, goosebumps flying across his body. Sergio kisses down the entire length of his right arm, from the flag down the tender skin along the underside of his arm to his armpit where he buries his face, licking and kissing at the light brown hair there and Iker lets out a low groan, absolutely writhing now and he tugs helplessly against the flag binding his wrists.

“Don’t move.” Sergio’s voice is a purring, pleased little husk as he kisses over to one of Iker’s nipples, plucking and twisting the other one as he sucks it into his mouth, nursing like a newborn and god he can’t keep his hand out of his own pants, can’t stop jerking off because he’s too fucking turned on. Iker just whines and takes it, his hips fucking up into nothing, his eyes still bleary with morning and he’s so hot from this that he feels like he’s dreaming. He nearly screams when Sergio’s hand finds his cock, when he hears the raunchy sound of Sergio spitting and suddenly his cock is coated, spit slicking him up real good and he’s leaking everywhere and he’s not even ashamed of it, not right now.

Sergio lifts up too soon (or so it feels to Iker), peeling his two-day-old outfit off his body and he’s left naked and his cock is almost purple at the tip, it’s absolutely beautiful to Iker as Sergio stands over him, one leg on either side of his body and then he’s crouching down, then he’s straddling him and--

“Oh, Jesus Christ, yeah. Oh, fuck yeah.” Iker’s entire body is straining so hard it hurts, his hips are lifted high in the air as Sergio squats over him, his well-trained hand jacking Iker’s fat cock, the head bumping against the plushness of Sergio’s ass and he strains up higher, trying to push into him as soon as he can. He keeps his bound hands high above his head, gripping the bottom of the couch to anchor himself as Sergio feeds Iker’s cock into himself, his sweet little ass spreading open like a morning glory and Iker’s mouth floods with saliva for how delicious this is, for how fucking hot this is and he drops back down as soon as he’s rooted inside of Sergio, the motion making them both jar, making the head of his cock dig in right against Sergio’s prostate and Sergio’s sharp cry makes them both fly into action, makes Iker start with the pop of his hips and makes Sergio start grinding down, the spit not nearly enough lube but he’s too far gone to care. They fuck in relative silence for several minutes, nothing but the slick, slopping sound of warm skin slapping together and the soft whimper of Sergio getting just what he wants and the low growl of Iker getting his cock worked like a god.

“Look at you spread out like this, Iker. Dirty Spanish dream. That big cock hard on this flag. Waiting for me to ride you. Weren’t you? Couldn’t keep me off this cock if you wanted to. Gotta worship it. Gotta make you come.” Sergio is shameless in the fuck of his hips, in the exaggerated curl of them as he pounds down on Iker’s dick, the pulling, dragging grind of them as he just rocks on it, keeping it buried inside of himself and Iker can’t take it, can’t take the filth of Sergio’s words and the absolutely _perfect_ movement of his hips and the way he’s holding Iker’s arms down even still, taking what he wants and he comes violently up inside of him, giving him what he wants, shooting him full and the sounds Sergio makes when he feels each spurt are enough to make him give more. And then more. And then more. He fucks Iker’s cock long after it’s empty, he keeps fucking it even when Iker is crying out for mercy, even when he tries with his trapped hands to make him stop, god, please, you’re going to kill me and it’s then, it’s when Iker lifts his hips in a helpless plea that Sergio comes, shooting in a high arc that lands in a pretty white splatter all over Iker, all over his lovely face and his chest and his trembling stomach. He keeps riding to keep the thrums of climax pulsing through him and Iker is in honest to God tears, his body willing him to be hard again but it hurts, it hurts so fucking good and finally Sergio lets go of his cock, lifts up off of it with a sick, wet squelch of a sound and he drips come on Iker’s stomach as he cranes up to untie him, unweaving the flag from around his now raw wrists and before Iker can say a word Sergio is kissing him, thick and hot and not nearly done with Iker. Not hardly. He runs a finger through the come on Iker’s chin and pushes into Iker’s mouth, past his pretty, swollen lips and then he’s standing up, gazing down at him hungrily even still.

“Come upstairs. Fuck me clean in the shower.”

He’s gone before Iker can respond and Iker sits up, hurriedly trying to get his bearings, to make his cock pay attention and get hard again because that was not a question from Sergio. It was an order.


End file.
